A Day in the Life of Red Team
by TheAlmightyFireHawk
Summary: Admit it, Red Team is totally like a crazy, maybe slightly dysfunctional family. Here's a collection of one-shots of the crazy adventures red team has. Some are AU, some are not. Genres vary throughout. And some will have multiple parts. Featuring my persona. Rated T for cursing and minor inappropriate stuff, but not too adult.
1. Camping Trip: Part I

**NOT DEAD YO! Just...lacking in inspiration. The second part is gonna be longer than this.**

 **Camping Trip: Part 1**

 **Takes place when the Reds were in Valhalla, I guess.**

* * *

"So, why are we going on this trip, sir?"

"Well Simmons, this way we'll be able to bond as a team and defeat the blues with impeccable coordination and teamwork. Haven't ya seen 'em? Always bickerin' at each other."

"Uh, but don't we do that too?" Grif put in.

"Which is why we're gonna eliminate disagreements with team bonding exercises!"

FireHawk asked, "Do I count?"

Grif turned to her. "Of course you do!"

Sarge shrugged. "Kinda. I'd rather have you here than on the blue's side, what with your witchcraft 'n all."

"It's not witchcraft, it's SUPER AWESOME MAGICAL INSANITY POWERS!"

The red leader sighed, "Never mind, start packing."

* * *

"Well of course we're bringing the tent!"

"I thought we were just gonna sleep in the puma!"

"It's not a puma, Grif, it's a warthog!"

FireHawk stared back and forth between Grif and Simmons, before she shrugged, taking the tent from the maroon soldier and loading it into the trunk.

She went back to stand near them as they yelled at each other about packing.

"Are you kidding me?! We NEED to bring toilet paper!"

"Then you're not really camping!"

FireHawk was starting to see why they needed team bonding. She sighed, pushing the two apart. "Just each pack his own bag. Kay?"

Grif and Simmons nodded before going their separate ways to pack their own bags. In the meantime, FireHawk began to load up the food.

Donut walked out carrying his bag, already packed, and his sleeping bag. Taking a look at what FireHawk was doing, he asked, "Why do we need so many marshmallows?"

"Because of Grif."

"Oh..."

Soon, everyone had their bags loaded into the jeep. Simmons yelled "Shotgun!" and FireHawk and Grif cursed under their breaths.

Sarge climbed into the drivers seat and they set off.

Only about thirty minutes into the road trip, a three way argument between FireHawk, Grif, and Simmons came up.

"GIVE ME THE CHOCOLATE BAR!"

"I HAD IT FIRST!"

"OH MY GOD THAT THING IS TWO WEEKS OLD DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"

FireHawk and Grif continued to fight over the chocolate bar that FireHawk had found as Simmons yelled at them not to eat it. Donut was ignoring them and reading a magazine.

Sarge just about had it. "Ya'll better SHUT UP or ah'm turnin' this car around!"

Donut finally looked up at his surroundings. "Are you sure you're going the right way? It looks like we're in the middle of a desert."

"Of course ah know where ah'm goin! Or ah wouldn't be drivin'!"

"I don't know...maybe we should ask for directions..."

"Well there ain't no one to ask! An' besides, Red Team doesn't ask for directions!"

Grif glared at FireHawk. "Thanks to your yelling, we're lost!"

FireHawk glared back. "Excuse me? But you're the one who tried to steal my chocolate bar!"

Simmons held his head in his hands, obviously getting a headache. He yelled, "OH MY GOD WILL YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP?! IT'S TWO WEEKS OLD ANYWAY, WAS ON THE FLOOR, AND PROBABLY REALLY DISGUSTING! NOW WE NEED TO FIND OUT WHERE THE HELL WE'RE GOING AND YOU TWO ARE ARGUING OVER A CHOCOLATE BAR THAT PROBABLY DOESN'T MATTER AND WOULD GIVE YOU FOOD POISONING!"

The whole car fell silent after that.

* * *

That silence only lasted for a few hours. Sarge had found his way back onto the route, but Donut needed to use the bathroom, and Grif and FireHawk were complaining about how hungry they were. Simmons was somehow sleeping through all this.

It drove the red leader insane. His right hand man wasn't awake to help him deal with all the ruckus in the back, so he had to put up with complaining for until they found a gas station.

Unfortunately, there was no gas station in sight. Eventually, FireHawk and Grif ignored Simmons' warning, and split the chocolate bar. They were _that_ desperate.

Sarge had just about enough at this point. He slammed the brakes and turned around. "All right, Donut, you're gonna have ta go in the bushes, and FireHawk and dirtbag can just go and eat some dirt. Cause I've just about had it with you three."

As all three of them exited the car, Donut to find a well sheltered place to use the bathroom, and FireHawk and Grif to find something edible and tasty, Sarge sighed and turned to a sleeping Simmons. "I could just leave 'em here, or kill 'em all, and no one would ever have ta know. No one."

Later, the trio returned and Simmons was awake, but something was up. Sarge could tell by the disturbed expressions on FireHawk and Grif's faces and Donut's overly happy mood.

Sarge sighed out, "All right, what happened?"

FireHawk shuddered. "Let's just say that Grif and I were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh come on, FireHawk!" Donut said. "You gotta get into the spirit of the wilderness!"

"I don't think you need to piss buck-naked," Grif grumbled. He shuddered at the image that just wouldn't leave his brain.

Sarge sighed. Just another Donut incident. "Everyone get back in the car."

Soon after they sped off again, FireHawk and Grif immediately resumed complaining about being hungry, having not found any food out there. Simmons, who had waken up from his nap, was now complaining about FireHawk and Grif's complaining, since they were giving him a headache he didn't want.

Sarge sighed in annoyance. It was going to be a loooong drive.

* * *

 **Hope you all enjoyed!**

 **~TheAlmightyFireHawk**


	2. Father's Day Special

**Hey guys, sorry that the second part of the camping trip isn't up yet, but I had to do a Father's Day Special for Red Team, plus this kind of gave me some feels. So yup, enjoy!**

* * *

Sarge sat in his room, looking sadly at the picture on his desk. A beautiful woman and two boys, both around 15 or 16. He thought back to the old days, before he winded up stuck in this canyon, before the PTSD drove him mad, back to when he had a normal, happy life.

A knock on the door interrupted his sentimental thoughts. "Come in," Sarge said in his gruff voice.

Simmons entered the room. "There's nothing to report about the blues, but Grif's-are you okay, sir?" Simmons' expression turned to a look of concern when he saw the sad look on his CO's face.

"Simmons," Sarge sighed out. "Can I trust you with the information I'm about to divulge?"

"Yes, sir."

"It's getting close to Father's Day, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, it's got me a bit down because...I had two sons of my own, Jacob and Matthew, and a loving wife, Jenna. I haven't seen them in a long time, hell, I'm wonderin' if they're still alive. I'd give anything just to see them again, but I got no clue how to do that."

Simmons fell silent. This was certainly something he wasn't expecting out of his gruff, usually cold hearted, superior officer.

"Simmons, you're a good kid. Hell, you remind me of Jacob; intelligent, punctual, and respectful. I think you two would get along very well."

"Thank you, sir."

Sarge sighed out, "You're dismissed."

* * *

What Sarge had told him haunted Simmons throughout the day. He'd always had father issues in the past, but he never imagined that the one man he looked up to as a father figure had thought of him as a son. Seeing Sarge so depressed like made Simmons realize that he needed to do something.

He was halfway done with his project when Donut entered the room. "What are you doing with Sarge's tools?"

Simmons looked up. "I'm making him a toolbox, one that's more organized than what we had before."

"What for?"

Simmons sighed. "It's getting near Father's Day, and apparently Sarge has two kids he really misses, but he doesn't know if he's going to see them again."

Donut gasped. "So you're making him a Father's Day present? I should get him something too! ..Can I?"

Simmons gave a small smile. "Go ahead."

Donut immediately dashed off in an extremely creative mood.

Unbeknownst to either of the two soldiers, FireHawk and Grif had eavesdropped on the whole conversation. After Donut was gone, FireHawk grinned at the orange soldier, "I have a couple ideas of my own."

* * *

Sarge exited his room, shutting the door behind him, ready to get on with the pointless war with the blues. However, he didn't expect to see Simmons standing outside his door, arms folded behind his back.

"Sir," the maroon soldier began, "I-I wanted to tell you that...I...had a lot of problems with my father when I was smaller...h-he wasn't around much, and he always had me do sports even though I suck at them...but I always thought of you as something like a dad to me...and I-I wanted to give you this."

Simmons held out a red toolbox. "I m-made it more organized than the last one...I wanted it to be something that was useful...b-but I hope you like it."

Sarge gave his right hand man a small smile, taking the toolbox gratefully and opening it to reveal his tools, all organized by types and sizes. "Simmons."

The maroon soldier looked up from where he was shyly rubbing his arm and staring at the floor. "Y-Yes, sir?"

"This..is the best gift I've ever gotten. Thank you."

Simmons didn't know what to say. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything, because Donut burst into the room, wearing a pink apron and oven mitts, holding a batch of cookies on a tray. "Sarge! I made you cookies! I put red frosting on all of them, and decorated it like our red flag!"

Sarge went to look at the cookies. Each circular pastry was covered in red frosting, with the black and white cobra on it. "They look great, Donut."

Then, FireHawk entered the room, with Grif. "Hey Sarge, I got you a new shotgun!" She held up a shotgun with a red ribbon on the barrel. "Feel free to test it out on Grif over here!" She gestured at Grif, who was covered head to toe in target circles painted in red. "You can get 5, 10, or 15 points, depending on how vital the organ is where you shoot him. You get 20 points for a shot right between the eyes!"

Grif grumbled, "I can't believe you made me agree to this."

"Hey, I am gonna revive you if you die!"

Sarge grinned at his soldiers (and FireHawk). Sure, they may not be his sons (and daughter), but they were certainly the closest thing to family he had at the moment. He loved them all, even Grif, although he didn't show it all the time. And he knew that they would always stand by his side to the end.

And there was no better Father's Day gift than that.

* * *

 **Grif: Did you have to put targets all over me?**

 **Me: Yes, yes I did.**

 **Grif: I hate you.**

 **Me: I have Oreos.**

 **Grif: I officially forgive you.**

 **~TheAlmightyFireHawk**


End file.
